Paradise
by bonusmosh
Summary: Yagami Raito has never been known to be someone who is easily satisfied. And even so in death, he strives to attain perfection. First attempt at 'oneshot' ing.


Just a little something I attempted in the midst of studying for the exams. I haven't read all the stories in the Death Note section, so I apologise in advance if this mimics any other story that already has been written by another author. I did not, and would never dream of, copying or plaguing any one else's story, so like I said, if it seems much too alike another story, please tell me and I will take it off immediately.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Death Note.

I was, sad to say, rather unsatisfied with the ending of the manga, as it made no claims on what happened to Kira in the afterworld. So this is just one of the hypothesis that I imagine might've happened to our dear Yagami Raito, who as we all know, can just never satisfy his hunger for power.

Well I don't think it turned out that fantastic, but at least I tried eh?

-

Yagami Raito staggered up, trying to regain his balance.

His head was throbbing, his ears were ringing, but strangely he felt no pain. Straightening his body, he stood upright and tried to recall what had happened. His vigilant mind scanned through his memory, as quickly as every, portraying vaguely familiar scenes.

_The Central Wharf.. Matsuda.. Gunshot.. Death Note.. Near.._

Raito's head jerked slightly in realisation, his memories flooding back into him. That was it. They had been in the warehouse. All of them. The Japanese police who had been working on the Kira case, and the SPK. Mikami, outside, scrawling their names down fanatically...

Only to find out the book he had was fake.

In the end, Raito had revealed he _was_ indeed Kira, then proceeded to write Near, or rather Nate Rivers', name down. It would've worked of course, if not for that bastard Matsuda firing at him, sending the piece of death note flying away. Of all people really, he would've least expected Matsuda to be the one. In fact, he had hardly even considered Matsuda as a threat.

Raito admitted that in the first place, his last-minute plan was a lousy one. He had been confident that everything would have gone smoothly. Confident enough that he had simply abolished any thought of a backup plan. It wasn't practical of him to do so, and indeed, it had cost him his life. Despite all that, Raito would have won, really. If _his _Shinigami had simply lifted a finger to write in it's own notebook.

But no, that fucking Ryuuku had instead of helping him, written down Raito's name.

So close. He had been so close to winning, to creating the utopia he had been working so hard on for the past few years. He would've been god of the world, half of them already practically threw themselves at his feet to worship him. And now it was all gone. Just like that. All because that dad-blasted Shinigami had simple _refused_ to help him. Sometimes he wished that Ryuuku could've been more like Rem, and Raito wondered if his biggest mistake actually was killing Rem. She would've come in more useful anyway.

Subconsciously annoyed with his failure, his clenched fists lashed out at the nearest rock next to him. He felt the skin on his knuckles tear slightly as it scraped against the rough surface of the granite, droplets of blood trickling down his fists. However, the young man found he felt no pain despite the warm sticky liquid that tickled his skin.

Surprised, Raito raised his fists to see his wounds miraculously healing on their own. His skin cells were speedily regenerating, closing up the gash on his hand. Instinctively he reached down for his blood-soaked shirt, the dried blood flaking off the fabric as his fingers crumpled the cloth. Raising his top a little, he noticed that any wounds on his body from the bullets, when he was alive that was, were now gone, without even the slightest trace of a scar.

It was not until now, that Yagami Raito took notice of his surroundings. The land was barren, and the tress, or what he presumed they were, were shriveled and twisted in the oddest shapes. The scene before him paralleled a desert perfectly, the entire place a vast ocean of sand, just that in a desert, you didn't see gigantic bones sticking out from the ground. Nor was the sky a cloudless pitch black.

Really, it didn't take a genius to figure out that this was not any place on earth.

Of course, theoretically speaking, since he were dead, it would be impossible for him to die again, hence his immunity to pain. And looking back at his life, Raito presumed that if there _were _a god out there, that god would've judged him and immediately sent him to hell. Not that he really believed there was a god, or even a hell in the first place, but where else did dead people go? Yet somehow, this place was definitely not what he pictured hell to be. True, it was dry, dead, and lack of lush greenery, but it was too quiet, almost too peaceful to be hell. There was no fire to scorch one for eternity, nor any minions scrambling around to bring about more misery.

Still, Raito grimaced in obvious displeasure with the scenario. Scanning his eyes across the vast plane for any form of life, let alone a form of intelligence, he espied two lone figures not too far away, crouched over a game they were playing. He squinted in the distance, making out the outline of their bodies to be strange, yet familiar in a way.

_Shinigami..._

So he wasn't in hell. He was in the world of the Shinigami. But why? Raito clicked his tongue in irritation, seeing that the two Shinigami looked even _less_ intellectual than Ryuuku had been. Nevertheless, he needed answers, and if he didn't ask them, his only other alternative would have been talking to a large chunk of granite.

As Raito walked up to them, he noticed they were playing a game of dice, or rather gambling to be exact. Only, their dice were in the form of shrunken skulls, small enough to come from a pathetic defenseless animal, he couldn't tell. One of the Shinigami had heard the approaching footsteps, and turned to look at the intruder from top to bottom, slightly astounded. He motioned to his friend, and the two abruptly stopped their game.

"What are you doing here?" The first cackled throatily, pointing a long bony finger at the young human.

Raito pursed his lips into a thin line, not making much of an effort to cover the disgust in his expression as his gaze fell upon their hideous appearances. "I was hoping you would tell me that."

The second gave an insane laugh, and looked at Raito with big saucer-like eyes. "You must be dead then."

Glaring at the bony creature before him, a dark look was cast across Raito's face. No, he was here on a vacation, what else? He recalled when that idiot Ryuuku had told him how he would like where he was going. Well, for one thing, stuck for an eternity with a bunch of incompetents was _not_ something he would enjoy.

"Yes. I _am_ dead." Raito answered, stressing his words slowly to ensure they would be able to comprehend what he was saying. "And I want to know what exactly, I'm doing here."

He was returned with a menacing sneer from the second Shinigami. "Then you're probably one of them. Haven't seen one in ages though." The Shinigami picked up his pair of dice and tossed them into a chalked circle on the ground, cursing aloud to himself when he saw the outcome.

"Them?" Raito questioned, a hint of impatience surfacing in the tone of his voice. It was bad enough they had hardly any intellect, and now worse that they weren't even giving him half of it. Suddenly a chunk of granite did seem the better alternative.

"The Death Note users." The first one stated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Raito folded his arms across his chest, wishing all Shinigami would just tell him the entire damned story from the beginning without having him to keep asking questions. "So where _are_ these people?"

"These people?" The same one cackled and turned back to his game, almost as if he were oblivious to the existence of the human behind him. "Hardly anyone has been foolish enough to fill up their notebook. Or most of them gave up their book before their Shinigami had written their name down."

"I haven't written a name in ages myself." The second Shinigami flippantly told his friend, pulling out a Death Note from behind him. Raito narrowed his eyes at how _empty_ the book was. The creased yellowed pages were stained, but only perhaps about two pages were filled with illegible scrawling. It was absolutely nothing, compared to the Death Note he owned.

Correction. He _used_ to own.

The sight of the Death Note made him feel a sense of excitement, at the same time the thought of the one he used to have, a knot in his stomach. "Where did you get that?" Raito asked, or rather, demanded. He was also fed up with holding such a pointless conversation with imbeciles. Time had always been precious to him, as every second was a chance for countless opportunities, waiting to be grasped.

"The King gave it to us of course." The first one answered again, absentmindedly, picking up the skull-shaped dice from the ground. He jiggled it in the palm of his hand, the rattling noise of the dice against his bones irritating Raito even further.

"The King?" Raito scowled, a faint image forming in his mind. He had overlooked of course, that God's of Death would actually have a ruler as well. But judging from what he had seen so far in this world.. if that were really the case, perhaps there was a chance he _might _enjoy himself here. The ends of his lips curved upwards slightly, a plan working its way into his mind already. "Take me to see this, King, then."

"See the King? Whatever for?"

"He's the ruler of this world. He ain't got no time listen to your petty complaints y'know." The second Shinigami scorned at Raito as if he were some kid.

_No time.._

Raito mused to himself, scoffing at the Shinigami's comment. He had a good idea this "King" had more than enough time in his hands, spending his time skivvying just like every other Shinigami in this world. Now honestly, why would they need such an insolent creature to be the ruler of the Death Gods? Of course they didn't. No. They didn't need some figurehead in his throne, his useless presence tainting the perfection that this world could be. There was so much to do, so much that _could _be done. And there was indeed, someone else much more deserving to be in that place. Raito could feel the confidence which poured into him, overcoming every nerve in his body. He could literally taste the sweetness of power that was in front of him, waiting to be nestled in the palm of his hand.

"Just take me to him." he repeated, his voice even stronger than before, whatever annoyance in his voice now disappeared to be replaced by a smooth slick tone, over-pouring with self-assurance. His gaze bore deep into the two Shinigami before him, causing them to tremble slightly at the sudden change, and leaving them no choice but to succumb to his wishes.

"What is wrong with you anyway?" The first one grumbled at the human before him, shrinking slightly away from Raito as he got up from his sitting position grudgingly. As much as he refused to admit, he was intimidated, by a certain demeanor about this human. "You can gamble the entire day, without the need to work at all, and you can live forever. What more do you want? This is already paradise."

"Paradise?"

Raito towered over the disgruntled Shinigami, grabbing the skull dice from his bony hand in one swift motion. He tossed the dice in the air and caught them in the palm of his own hands, rolling the rough items around in his palms. Then he moved closer to the Shinigami, catching a whiff of the stench coming from it.

When he had found the Death Note on that fateful day when he was 17, Ryuuku had told him it were by chance that Raito had picked it up. But Raito knew, that it was not simply by luck, that _he _had been the one to pick up that book. _He_ was the only one who had been capable of taking such a power to greater heights, to have changed the world. Not just anyone, but only him.

And now that he had been sent to this world of the Shinigami, it was obvious that fate had set a place for him. He was there for a purpose, to change the sinful slothing, to create a perfect world that only he could build. Yagami Raito, or rather Kira, had been a God on earth. And now that he was dead, and trapped in this world of the Shinigami, what stopped him from being God of the supernatural?

Raito held his hand outstretched, directly in front of the Shinigami's face, and watched as it's expression twisted into a mixture of fear and reverence. They had already begun to coil themselves around his finger, recognising his power and capabilities. Raito gave a short but menacing laugh, a smirk playing on his lips as he tightened his fists around the bony dice.

Then without a warning, he crushed them with his bare hands, the grains of white powder falling through the holes between his enclosed fingers.

"**I, **will create paradise."


End file.
